


Amrâlimê and A'maelamin

by iam93percentstardust



Series: A Legend Anew [5]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Fingering, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Death, Minor Injuries, Rimming, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 03:24:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17154383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iam93percentstardust/pseuds/iam93percentstardust
Summary: '“Why wasn’t Kíli there?”Fíli’s mouth turned down at the corners. “We thought you were dead,” he admitted. “Kíli…didn’t take it very well. He mourns for you.'The reunion between Kíli and Legolas





	Amrâlimê and A'maelamin

**Author's Note:**

> For everyone who wanted a reunion scene between Kíli and Legolas.  
> I apologize if this is awful. If you browse through all my works, you'll see that I literally never write smut but I was inspired so here, have this (probably terrible) explicit fic for Christmas!

Fíli led Legolas away, letting him lean heavily on his arm. “What happened?” he asked lowly as he eyed the crutch Legolas was using.

“The mountain came down,” Legolas murmured, voice clear even through the pain he had to be in. “Dwalin was injured. Orc bite to the shoulder. I did what I could to keep us, stop us from being crushed, but-” He cut off as he stumbled, the injured ankle giving out for a moment, and bit back a curse. Fíli winced sympathetically. “I woke up, foot pinned under a boulder, and Dwalin unconscious. Couldn’t shift the rocks without him. We only fell about a hundred feet onto a ledge. The orcs were not so lucky. It wasn’t a big ledge; we could only go either up or down. With this,” he gestured at his leg, “I wasn’t going to be doing much climbing. I told Dwalin to go without me, to find help, but he wouldn’t go. We waited another day, wrapped my ankle and Dwalin’s shoulder, and then tried climbing up. But I couldn’t put any pressure on my leg and Dwalin couldn’t lift his arm higher than halfway so we tried down instead. Made it to the bottom of the ravine and then we walked. For days. Found neither food nor water though we were able to find enough wood to light a few fires.”

“And your crutch,” Fíli added.

Legolas, exhaustion beginning to show, looked dazedly at him. “What?” he asked.

Fíli gestured at the glorified branch Legolas held. “Your crutch. I assume you found that as well.”

“Oh. Yes, Dwalin carved it for me,” Legolas said, now staring at the crutch like he’d forgotten he was holding it. For a moment, Fíli was worried that Legolas had also taken a blow to the head, that he needed to turn around and march him back to the healers. But he suspected that the emotional turmoil, the pain, and the malnourishment were finally taking their toll on the elf. He suspected that he would be right as rain in a few days, after some rest and food.

“Come on,” he muttered, hauling more forcefully on Legolas’ arm. “Let’s get you to Kíli.”

“Kíli,” Legolas said agreeably. “Why wasn’t Kíli there?”

Fíli’s mouth turned down at the corners. “We thought you were dead,” he admitted. “Kíli…didn’t take it very well. He mourns for you.” Legolas didn’t say anything to that though he quickened his pace as much as he was able.

 

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Kíli had been promised undisturbed rest and peace by Lady Arwen and, for the five days they’d been in Rivendell, he was given it. He was grateful for it, as much as he could be, other than the fact that it had left him alone with his thoughts. Would things have been different if he had stayed with Legolas? Would they be different if he had forced Legolas to go and he had stayed behind? What if Thorin had agreed to Legolas’ plan faster? What if Kíli hadn’t insisted on going to Rivendell?

The thoughts swirled round and round in his head, mocking him, reminding him that the love of his life was dead.

Kíli didn’t know what he could have changed if he had done things differently but he knew two things going forward: he couldn’t go to the Shire and he couldn’t return to Erebor. It would be too hard for him to see the joyful reunion of his uncle and Bilbo. Kíli didn’t want to do or say something he would regret and he knew that he would if he was forced to see his uncle’s happiness so soon after his own heartbreak. As for Erebor, well, the Lonely Mountain was meant to be his home, one that he could share with Legolas. With Legolas gone, it no longer felt like the home it was supposed to be. No, Erebor was not his home any more.

There was a knock at his door and Kíli looked up, startled. He hadn’t realized he was clutching Legolas’ bead again. “I don’t wish to be disturbed,” he called.

“Kí, it’s me.” Kíli sighed. Of course Fíli would be the first to disturb him. “Open the door.”

“Won’t,” he said stubbornly. “Leave me alone.”

“Kíli trust me,” Fíli said, now pleading. “You want to open this door. I… I have news.”

Then it was news that Kíli didn’t want to hear. News of the sort where Fíli told them that Legolas’ body had been brought home. His broken, battered, beautiful body that they’d found at the bottom of the cliff. And now the images were coming faster than he could stop them- images of twisted limbs and of blond hair trapped beneath rocks, of hearts pierced by arrows and a head separated from its shoulders. Kíli let out a sob, digging his hands into his eyes as though he could stop the horrific thoughts.

Gradually, he became aware that Fíli was pounding on the door. “Let me in, Kí!” he shouted like the force of his will alone could get him through a locked door.

“Leave me!” he screamed back.

Silence fell and he wondered if perhaps Fíli had finally listened and left him alone. He fell back onto his bed, eyeing the tealeaves Arwen had left with him. She had promised him they would bring dreamless sleep. He hadn’t once touched them, not wanting the peace they would bring. Instead, his sleep had been troubled with nightmares, of vague recollections of lightning striking rock and of a dark tower in a barren wasteland. Each time, he’d woken up screaming.

Then there was a new voice, softer than Fíli’s and heartbreakingly familiar. “Kíli,” he said. “Amrâlimê. Please. Let me in.”

Kíli was striding across the floor almost before he had finished speaking, throwing open the door to see his love standing there. Legolas looked exhausted, leaning heavily on a branch, but he was alive. He was _there_.

“No,” Kíli whispered. “You’re dead. You can’t be here.”

Legolas shook his head. “It’s all right. I’m alive. I am here. I-” He hesitated. “I lost my bead.”

Kíli choked back a laugh. Slowly, he opened his hand to reveal the bead sitting in his palm. Legolas slumped against the doorway. At first, Kíli thought it was relief that the bead was recovered that has Legolas uncharacteristically leaning into the door but then he noted the way Legolas was still listing, eyes dull instead of shining. He caught him before Legolas could fall any further.

“Come on, a’maelamin,” he urged. “I think a bath and then sleep.”

They moved further into the room, Legolas stumbling on the damaged ankle. Kíli slipped under his unsupported arm and half-carried him to the silver tub tucked behind a privacy screen in the corner of the room. He turned on the tap, marveling again at the plumbing capabilities the elves had, waiting until the water had turned warm before he twisted the plug. As they waited for the tub to fill, he gently undressed his elf. The only sound was the whisper of clothes dropping to the floor.

Arwen had been bringing him food each morning and night though Kíli had eaten none of it, having neither the stomach nor the will to eat. She had left a plate of fruit earlier in the day. Kíli hadn’t touched it but he brought it over to the tub certain that Legolas had rarely eaten during his ordeal.

He set the plate down on the floor and reached over to turn the tap off. Legolas caught his hand. “Join me?” he whispered. Kíli hesitated. He was tempted- nearly a week of grief made him want to reaffirm that they were both still alive through more than sight alone- but they were both tired and Legolas was injured. It was certain to be a bad idea. Legolas seemed to understand what he was thinking. He shook his head. “Not for that. Just… stay with me.”

Without another hesitation, Kíli reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head. Legolas settled into the bath as Kíli perfunctorily undressed, leaning forward when Kíli got in behind him. He sat against the back and pulled Legolas in to relax against him, tucking his head down against his shoulder. Legolas went willingly, curling against him. Kíli washed them both, scrubbing away the dirt and blood, noting the minute cuts that were already healing.

The water was still warm when he’d finished so he leaned back again. He whispered soft words, reassuring himself as much as Legolas that they were both safe. He carded his fingers through bright hair, taking a few strands and braiding them together, threading the silver bead onto the end. Knowing it was something Legolas enjoyed, he continued to stroke his head, relaxing more with each pass. They both ate a little, though neither had more than a few bites. By the time the water had cooled, he was half-asleep and dusk was fast approaching.

“Come on, love,” he whispered. “Time for bed.”

There was a faint protest from the elf, who’d been drowsing as much as Kíli had, but he obligingly stood. Again, Kíli took charge, toweling them both off. Legolas was near boneless against him, languid and pliant in a way he rarely was outside the bedroom. Kíli considered his chances of getting Legolas to walk to the bed, decided that they were poor, and swept him up, carrying him across the room.

There, he settled Legolas onto the bed before he laid down on his back, pulling the blankets up around them. Legolas grumbled wordlessly and rolled over, wincing slightly when he jostled the injured ankle. He curled up next to Kíli, pillowing his head on the dwarf’s chest. Kíli hesitated as Legolas made himself comfortable and then gently tucked his arm around him. Within minutes, Legolas’ breaths evened out. Kíli watched for a few minutes longer, terrified that Legolas would disappear if he closed his eyes. But sleep was calling and, eventually, his eyes slipped shut.

 

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Kíli awoke to find that it hadn’t been a dream, that Legolas was really here with him. During the night, Legolas had shifted again. He was now pressed fully along the length of Kíli, the injured leg thrown over his hip, head and arm resting on his chest.

He let out a long sigh, his own arm tightening convulsively where it clutched Legolas tighter to him. The elf murmured in his sleep and snuggled closer. Soothingly, Kíli stroked his back. Legolas quieted but Kíli continued to pet him, more for comfort now than anything else. His hand moved in long sweeps down his back, down to where the blankets had shifted low in the night and back up to tangle in silky hair.

For a time, he was content with that and the sun rose higher as they lay in peaceful silence. But his love was naked in his arms and he’d nearly _lost_ him this week and suddenly, merely holding him wasn’t quite enough.

His strokes grew bolder, longer, pushing the blankets further down. They swept low across the curve of his ass and then down further to carefully pull Legolas’ leg further up, exposing more of him to Kíli’s gaze. At the movement, the blankets fell away completely. Kíli shivered in the sudden temperature change and Legolas’ breathing changed, a sure sign he was waking up.

Kíli smiled to himself. This wasn’t the first time he had woken Legolas like this and, though this week had tried its hardest, that wasn’t going to change in the future. He pressed a kiss to the top of Legolas’ head as he blinked sleepily at him.

“Good morning, a’maelamin,” he murmured. His hand swept back down, thumb catching on the rim of his lover’s hole.

Legolas inhaled sharply. “Kíli,” he gasped. Kíli moved his hand away to rest on the small of his back.

“I,” Kíli said, dropping a kiss on his forehead, “could have,” another one on the tip of his nose, which crinkled adorably, “lost you.” He kissed his mouth chastely, pulling back after a moment. He let his eyes roam over Legolas’ face, memorizing the features that he’d thought he would never see again. Legolas’ eyes had closed again and he hummed in contentment. “Would you deny me?”

The elf’s eyes opened slowly. Kíli could see no condemnation in those beautiful eyes, only a sort of lazy pleasure. His hand came up to cup Kíli’s face, brushing his thumb across his cheek. “I would never deny you, amrâlimê,” he replied.

A fond smile spread across Kíli’s face and his own hand moved to cradle Legolas’ cheek. Legolas turned his face into his palm and pressed a gentle kiss to his fingertips. The moment hung there, suspended in its peacefulness. Then Legolas cast a filthy smirk Kíli’s way, eyes darkening with arousal, and took three of Kíli’s fingers into his mouth.

Kíli moaned, cock hardening instantly. He thrust up, hips sliding against Legolas’, feeling the elf’s rising cock against his own. Legolas tried to meet his thrust, hips stuttering, but then he whimpered as the movement put too much pressure on his injury.

“Careful, love,” Kíli said, using his free hand to soothingly pet Legolas’ side. Legolas groaned in frustration, his throat, already stretched tight around Kíli’s fingers, vibrating. Kíli moaned in answer. Legolas’ eyes sparkled and he sucked harder.

Kíli buried his face in the crook of Legolas’ neck, biting sharply at the juncture. Legolas gasped and he licked back over the bite, easing away the sting. There was another aborted movement from Legolas, another whimper. Though it drove him mad that Legolas was hurt, Kíli still had to bite back a laugh as the elf was clearly less angry at the fact that he was injured and more at how he couldn’t move the way he wanted to.

He withdrew his fingers from Legolas’ mouth and asked, “Hold still for me?” Obligingly, Legolas stilled. Kíli shifted his arm under Legolas’ knee, holding it apart from him, as he cautiously rolled them over. He settled between his lover’s legs, Legolas’ good one naturally falling to the side to cradle him.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, he gazed down at the elf below him. They’d been together for several years now and it still amazed him that this graceful, beautiful creature loved him and wanted to be with him. Legolas quirked a brow, clearly wondering what the holdup was, before reaching up to pull Kíli back down. Kíli laughed and pressed a line of kisses down his throat.

“Mahal below,” he murmured, sucking a bruise onto his neck. “You are beautiful.”

He looked up just in time to see those pale cheeks turn a fetching shade of pink. Grinning broadly, he bent back to his task, worrying at the bruise with his teeth. When he pulled back, Kíli was satisfied to see it stand out starkly against his throat. It was high enough that no elven collar would hide it, a mark for anyone to see and know who he belonged to.

“You are, you know,” he continued conversationally as he continued kissing down Legolas’ chest, stopping now to suck a nipple into his mouth. His free hand came up to roll the other nipple between still-slick fingers. Legolas moaned. His hand tangled in Kíli’s hair to hold him in place. Kíli nipped at the hardened peak before moving to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment. Pleased with himself, he pulled back to study his work. Both peaks were red and stiff, two bright spots of color on his pale chest. Legolas sobbed, arching up against him.

“Gorgeous,” he declared. Legolas turned his head, pressing his face into the pillows. Kíli sighed. He had once asked about the differences between the Mirkwood elves and their kin. Tauriel and Legolas both had told him that the woodland elves were less fair than their cousins, wilder and less refined. Both had seemed to believe it with every fiber of their being. Kíli hadn’t; he’d seen both Legolas and, before him, Tauriel as the most stunning creatures he’d ever laid eyes on. He’d been unable to disavow Legolas of the notion that he was somehow less than his kin. He wasn’t sure if Legolas thought he was lying or that he was simply being nice but, either way, all of his attempts had been met with disbelief.

“One day,” he said, “I’m going to get you to believe me.”

Legolas chuckled breathlessly. “I believe that you believe it. Isn’t that enough?”

Kíli swirled his tongue inside his bellybutton in answer. Legolas squirmed away from the wet touch. He pressed down on his slim hips, pinning him where he wanted him.

“One day,” he continued as he kissed along the hipbone. His hand shifted to gently stroke Legolas’ cock. Legolas arched again, crying out at the light touch. “One day, you’ll believe that a single inch of you is more precious to me than all the jewels beneath the earth. One day, you’ll believe me when I tell you that I’d never known true beauty until I saw you. One day, you’ll believe that if Erebor fell tomorrow, never to rise again, I wouldn’t care in the slightest so long as you were with me.”

He thought about telling him that he had thought his own life had ended when Legolas fell. That his heart had shattered when Elladan had handed him the silver bead. That he’d refused both food and water that week. That he’d spent those lonely, miserable days staring blankly at the wall. But Legolas was here with him and he didn’t want to mar these moments with such talk.

Instead, he moved further down the bed, Legolas’ hands shifting from gripping his hair to the bed sheets. His leg slid from the crook of Kíli’s arm to rest on his shoulder. He looked up and met Legolas’ eyes. “Comfortable?” he asked seriously, waiting until Legolas had nodded before turning his attention back to his cock.

He ran the back of his forefinger along the length of it, relishing the way it jerked against Legolas’ stomach. “Well, isn’t that the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen?” he purred.

“Seen many of those?” Legolas asked cheekily though the question was undermined by the way he had to gasp it out.

Kíli shot a quick glare at him, flicking his hip lightly as a warning. “Behave,” he told him. He followed the path his finger had taken, pressing wet kisses along the length of his cock. He pulled back again, taking advantage of the way Legolas arched trying to follow his mouth to slide an arm under his hips and lifting him further. He smiled at the sight of Legolas’ hole, dusty rose and clenched tight. His own cock was hard and needy against the sheets but he pushed his arousal to the back of his mind. Right now, he wanted to be fully focused on Legolas and not on himself.

“I would,” Legolas panted, “if you would stop being such a _tease_.”

“Not a tease,” Kíli corrected him. “Just not where I’m planning on putting my mouth.”

Legolas opened his mouth, presumably to ask where he _was_ planning on putting his mouth, but Kíli bent back down and licked an experimental stripe across his hole. They both stilled for a moment. Then Legolas cried out, as much in shock as arousal, and fingers clutched at Kíli’s head again. Kíli smiled against the inside of Legolas’ thigh before nipping softly. They didn’t do this often though Kíli couldn’t imagine why now.

He shifted his arm supporting Legolas to a more comfortable position, exposing the elf further. He licked again, still cautiously, partially wondering if Legolas had only reacted in surprise. But he was gratified when Legolas thrust his hips down against his face. His free hand pressed down on his hip to hold him.

“If you injure yourself again,” he stated, breathing warm air onto Legolas’ hole and enjoying the way he writhed, “I’m going to leave you here.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Legolas said archly, tightening his fingers in Kíli’s hair.

He was right but Kíli wasn’t going to tell him that. Instead, he turned his attention more seriously to his task. He sucked at the rim followed by small kitten licks around it and then repeating it. Legolas tightened and relaxed with every motion of his mouth. Each time, he relaxed a little further until Kíli was able to lick his way inside, feeling velvet walls around his tongue. Legolas shuddered at the sensation, choking out a moan. Kíli could feel the movement and he moaned in response.

Pulling back, he took a deep breath. He intended to dive right back in but he glanced quickly up at Legolas and then stopped, arrested by the sight. Legolas’ pupils were blown wide with lust. His normally pale cheeks were flushed pink. There were patches of red across his neck and chest where Kíli’s beard had rubbed the skin raw. His nipples were stiff peaks, dark on his chest, and his cock was a hard line against his stomach.

“Amrâlimê, please,” Legolas whispered.

The voice of the proud elf shamelessly pleading was nearly his undoing. He longed to thrust into that tight heat and bring them both to a satisfying conclusion. But Legolas was injured and Kíli doubted that he’d be able to keep him from hurting himself further. There was, however, something else he could do.

He moved his fingers back up to Legolas’ mouth, tracing the shape of his lips. “Suck for me, a’maelamin,” he murmured.

Legolas didn’t obey immediately, licking them instead. Kíli watched him and luxuriated in the feeling of his lover curling his tongue around his fingers. It was only once Legolas finally took his fingers into his mouth that he turned his attention back to his ass.

Legolas whined around Kíli’s fingers as Kíli licked him open until he was sloppily wet. Satisfied, Kíli pulled his fingers from his mouth and, still with his mouth on Legolas’ hole, slowly pushed a finger in next to his tongue. It wasn’t the easiest thing they’d ever done. It was easier than if they’d tried this dry but spit wasn’t the best lubricant and Kíli wanted so badly to keep from hurting Legolas. Even so, with Kíli relentlessly pushing and Legolas bearing down on him, he was able to slide his finger in until the heel of his palm was pressed tight against Legolas’ ass. He looked down at his thick digit buried deep in his lover’s body and groaned.

He stroked gently at the tight walls. Legolas clenched even tighter around him. Slowly, he withdrew his finger, stopping only when Legolas whimpered. “Shh love,” he said comfortingly. “I’ve got you.” He pushed back in, the slide easier this time.

It was deliciously lewd, fingering the elf while he continued to lick and suck around his own finger, listening to Legolas’ whines above him and the soft squelch of his body as it opened up for him. Confident now that Legolas was slick enough, he pushed a second finger in beside the first. Kíli thought of immediately trying to add a third but doubted it would be as easy as the second. He worked on spreading his fingers, ignoring the need to stuff his lover as much as possible and licking between the digits as soon as he could.

Above him Legolas shifted restlessly, keening with every thrust of his fingers. “More,” he demanded when Kíli paused for a second.

Kíli had always been a contrary fellow and he shifted away instead, admiring the sight of Legolas stuffed with his fingers. “Just a moment,” he replied. “Let me breathe.”

Legolas clearly didn’t like that answer as he kicked lightly at Kíli’s back, only wincing a little when it jostled the injured ankle. “You can breathe after I’ve come.”

Kíli grinned broadly at the retort. Legolas was typically pliant and submissive in bed, demanding only when he was close to coming. Never before had Kíli managed to bring him so close to the edge so quickly.

“Kíli, please,” Legolas breathed, voice turning soft and pleading. “Fuck me.”

Oh, that was evil. Legolas had to know that Kíli would do just about anything for him when he sounded like that. Combined with that filthy word falling from his lips? Kíli didn’t stand a chance.

He dropped his mouth back to press open-mouthed kisses against Legolas’ hole, withdrew his fingers, and then shoved three back inside. Legolas arched up with a sharp cry at the sensation. Kíli pressed his fingers at the spot inside him and he subsided into broken moans. His hips twitched in time with Kíli rubbing over the spot. He kept up a constant assault against it and Legolas began to babble, pleading for more.

Obligingly, Kíli kissed his way back up Legolas’ cock, fitted his mouth over the head, and sucked hard. Legolas came with a wail, back arching in an impossible curve, ass clenching around Kíli’s fingers. Kíli swallowed every drop, waiting until Legolas had calmed down to panting before he rose up to cover him.

Desperate now for his own release, he jerked his hand over his cock frantically. But Legolas tugged his hand away. “Inside me,” he murmured.

Kíli shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Not all the way,” Legolas allowed. “Just a little bit. Please, amrâlimê. I want to feel you.” He reached down with the hand not holding Kíli’s and stroked his cock gently. He thumbed the top until it was slick with pre-come and Kíli was gasping from the effort of holding back his release.

“Please,” Legolas repeated.

Helplessly, Kíli nodded, unable to speak through his arousal. Legolas flashed him a brilliant smile and let go of his cock. He pushed insistently at Kíli’s shoulders until he rolled back onto his back. Legolas moved to straddle him, rising up on his knees. Kili raised his hands to his hips, wanting to protest, certain that he was hurting his ankle, but Legolas pressed a finger to his lips, quieting him without a word.

“Let me do this for you,” Legolas begged. He lined them up and pushed down until Kíli was encased in his heat.

Kíli threw his head back against the pillows and groaned loudly. True to his word, Legolas didn’t push down all the way, holding himself still with only a few inches of Kíli’s cock in him. Not that it mattered because Kíli came nearly as soon as he felt that velvet softness. His release pulsed deep inside the elf, who moaned with Kíli. When he’d spent entirely, he lifted Legolas off of him.

Legolas laid down much the same way they’d woken, leg thrown over the dwarf and head resting on his chest. His fingers curled into the hair on Kíli’s chest and Kíli ran a possessive hand back over his ass. He could feel his come beginning to leak out and he gathered it up on the tip of one finger before he pushed it back inside. Legolas whined softly at the new penetration.

“Sorry,” Kíli whispered though he didn’t remove the finger. He pushed it further inside and then let it rest, still buried deep. Legolas shifted once to be more comfortable and then settled back down with a content sigh.

He’d been surprised the first time this had happened, that Legolas liked this sort of nonsexual penetration. Legolas had said that he liked the fullness, that the fading of the Greenwood and the way he’d left his people and homeland left him with a sort of emptiness deep within him. Kíli didn’t quite understand how this made up for it but he certainly wasn’t going to complain about it. It was no hardship on him to keep Legolas as full as he liked.

He could feel his eyes shifting closed, exhausted by the stress of the last week and the catharsis of his release. His other hand came up to stroke Legolas’ hair. Legolas leaned into it like a relaxed cat.

“Do we have to wake yet?” Legolas said drowsily, voice scarcely louder than a sigh.

“No,” Kíli replied, not caring if it was true or not. Surely they had earned this rest. “Go back to sleep.”

Silence fell and when Kíli next looked, Legolas was breathing deep and easy, face hidden by a curtain of hair. Kíli pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head and then relaxed back against the pillows, watching through the window as the sun rose high above the valley.


End file.
